


Hell is Empty (The Devils are Here)

by Delayedresponse



Series: The Non-Believers [3]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Body Horror, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, Paranormal, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 20:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delayedresponse/pseuds/Delayedresponse
Summary: Ryan receives an unwanted gift and throws a sleepover party. Shane manages. Deep in a forgotten place, something stirs.





	Hell is Empty (The Devils are Here)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the long wait! University and my perfectionist tendencies got in the way of writing. But here I am with part three, where shit's about to go down. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

In life, she had been a baroness, wealthy and beautiful. Her husband, on the night of their wedding, had stabbed her. He made off with her family’s fortune, leaving her bleeding on the velvet carpet. 

In death, she was known as The Nuckelavee - an emaciated figure atop a skinless horse, spreading terror wherever she rode. Together, with the help of other spirits and a priest, the frightened townsfolk locked her away in a silver jewelery box. The only possession that her wretched husband did not steal. 

For many years, she remained, driven mad by her confinement. The box was exchanged from owner to owner, its original legend long forgotten. Inside, she awaited the day when someone would lift the latch of the lid and set her free. That day was today, she was sure of it. Through the thin walls of her prison, she could hear them.

Voices. Human voices. A woman, high-pitched and titillating. A man, low and muted. Their tongue was strange, yet familiar. She strained to pick out their words, but to no avail. It didn’t matter, however. Human voices meant human bodies, ideal vessels ripe for the picking. Her lipless mouths stretched into grins. 

Soon, The Nuckelavee will ride again.

* * *

Ever since Shane’s death, the days where life felt worth living became few and far between for Ryan Bergara. 

Today was supposed to be one of those days. Unsolved: Supernatural had finished filming its fourth season. This meant no more sleeping in abandoned hospitals or hiking through creepy graveyards. No more dealing with ghosts, demons or other spooks that made his skin crawl. Ryan strolled past the office doors, almost completely at ease. 

He was greeted at his desk by a blonde woman in a flowing bottle-green dress, carrying a cardboard shipping box. She was none other than Joanna, Buzzfeed’s resident self-proclaimed psychic.

Joanna had a reputation for being eccentric in a workplace already choke-full of weirdos. She had a fascination with collecting supposedly ‘cursed’ objects and including them in her videos. While Ryan considered himself a seeker of the paranormal, he never brought his work home. 

Until now.

“Let me get this straight: You want me to bring this possibly ‘haunted’ object home, sleep next to it and potentially ruin the rest of my life? All for one video?”

“Yep!” said Joanna, looking a bit too cheery for someone who dabbles in the dark arts. “Also, you’ll be recording the artifact for any, you know,” she gestured, “strange stuff.”

“Strange stuff,” echoed Ryan flatly.

“Yep! Any questions?”

Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning. Seriously? He had just returned from an exhausting two-month road trip chasing ghosts. The last thing he wanted now was to participate in an activity that could stir up more of aforementioned ghosts. Trying not to appear outwardly irritated, he shook his head. 

“Jo, please. I was out filming half an entire season. I’m tired, okay? Like really, really tired. Can’t I just… I dunno, forfeit this challenge?”

“ _Ry-aan_ ,” pouted Joanna, sickeningly sweet. “All your Twitter fans voted for you to be in this video. You wouldn’t want to let them down, would you?”

Was she actually using his fans against him? Blackmail on this level should be illegal. Sighing, Ryan threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

She squealed happily, leaning forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek. Before he could react, she thrust the cardboard box into his arms. “Here you go!"

Ryan eyed the box in suspicion “Is this the ‘artifact’? I was expecting something a little less… modern.” He commented sarcastically, flipping the box around to inspect it.

Joanna nudged his shoulder playfully. “No, silly. Inside’s an ornamental chest, supposedly belonging to a nineteenth century Scottish baroness, who was brutally murdered by her husband-to-be.”

“By her own fiance? That’s awful.” 

“I know, right? Apparently, all the previous owners of the chest have reported signs of paranormal activity. Oh, and the person I bought it from gave specific instructions not to open the chest.” She nudged him again. “Think you can handle it?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Don’t open it. Record for strange stuff. Got it.”

“Great!” chirped Joanna, bouncing up from her seat. “I’ll check on you later. Have a nice day!” And with that, she sauntered off, leaving Ryan to process what he had just gotten himself into.

* * *

Over the length of the last two months, Shane had been masquerading as Ryan’s personal bodyguard. It was not an easy job, considering the ridiculous number of ghosts who would do anything to harm the living. How the hell Ryan had managed to survive all those previous adventures was beyond him. 

Of course, not every spirit he encountered was malicious. Aokigahara Forest was one destination he was particularly worried about, due to the hundreds of suicides that had taken place there. Turns out, the ghosts were peaceful and unfailingly polite. One of them even spoke to him - a girl, looking no older than eighteen, dressed in modern clothing, a small flame flickering above her head. 

She introduced herself as a _yūrei_ , a type of Japanese spirit. Her and dozens of other suicide victims were bound to protect the forest, just like he was bound to protect Ryan. 

“Your friend,” she said in accented English, “may become a _yūrei_ too, when he passes.”

“Oh, you mean Ryan?” Shane imagined his companion with a halo of brightly- colored flames circling his head. Huh. 

The girl nodded. “His ancestors were from this land. What we become in the afterlife, depends on them.”

Shane took in this information silently. This meant that whatever sort of ghost he was, whatever that screaming ‘power’ he had was developed from his ancestry. What crazy land had his ancestors spawned from? Becoming a shrieky abomination in the afterlife wasn’t exactly his top priority. Nevertheless, he thanked the girl for her insight and continued along with the crew.

Filming had wrapped up earlier than expected that day, Brent complaining that there was nothing to document except an endless sea of trees. Shane just felt relieved - Japan was the last stop of their expedition. By tomorrow, they will be on a flight back to the States, where Ryan would be safe from the spirits that strayed too close. 

Or so he thought.

* * *

There was another spirit here - she could sense him. His presence was a brick wall, separating her and the human she intended to possess. After feeling his signature, she knew exactly what he was. 

A _bean-sídhe_ , or Banshee, as the nomads called it. A fearsome spectre whose animal-like wails could destroy a whole village. This particular one was young, but strong. Unknowingly or not, his aura had formed a shield around the human, preventing her from getting to him. 

How cruel could fate be, denying her this chance at escape? Gnashing her teeth in frustration, she wanted nothing more than to burst free and crush the loathsome vermin’s skull beneath her hooves. The damned meddling bastard!

 _Patience, girlie, patience_ . It was only a matter of time. Sooner or later, another human would fall under her spell. Minor delays were of no concern to her. This was all a matter of time.

On her haunches, in the darkness of her prison, she waited.

* * *

Balancing various equipment, a laptop and the cardboard box, Ryan managed it to his home’s front door before nearly tripping over the garbage bag lying in the hallway. Seriously? Was the world out to get him today? Geez. 

Once he had settled, he glanced at his phone and saw he had several unread messages. Maybe it was Brent again, trying to prank him with stupid photoshopped pictures. (Admittedly, he hadn’t fully recovered from the skeleton-hand one. It also didn’t help that Brent had staunchly denied his involvement.) Ryan opened his messages and was overwhelmed by emojicons. 

**JOjoba Oil** (6:05pm) Hi! 0w0  
**JOjoba Oil** (6:05pm) Are you there? ◉_◉  
**JOjoba Oil** (6:15pm) Ryan????  
**JOjoba Oil** (7:01pm) ~Hewwo?~

 **Ryan** (7:20pm) omg i just got home  
**Ryan** (7:20pm) also pls dont say hewwo ur giving me flashbacks 

**JOjoba Oil** (7:21pm) You replied! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧  
**JOjoba Oil** (7:21pm) Just checking in ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Has anything happened?

 **Ryan** (7:22pm) um no

 **JOjoba Oil** (7:22pm) ರ_ರ Really? 

**Ryan** (7:22pm) really Jo 

**JOjoba Oil** (7:23pm) Well, let me know if something happens!  
**JOjoba Oil** (7:23pm) See you tomorrow! ( ´ ∀ ` )ﾉ

Carefully, Ryan lifted the object out of its box. A small ornate chest, made of tarnished silver, sat nicely in his palms. It was oddly beautiful, and definitely haunted. 

Fuck. If he was going to spend the night monitoring that potentially cursed chest, he wasn’t going to do it alone. Thumbing through his phone contacts, he pulled up Brent’s number. 

**Ryan** (7:25pm) Wanna come over?  
**Ryan** (7:25pm) I got booze n snacks  
**Ryan** (7:26pm) also netflix

 **Brontosaurus** (7:29pm) Sold. Im on my way

He sent out one final confirmation to Brent and a similar invitation to Sara before placing the phone next to the ornament chest. Yawning, Ryan headed to the bathroom, where a hot shower was calling his name.

* * *

Nine months had passed since he became a ghost and seeing Ryan strip naked in front of him had not gotten any less awkward. With great effort, Shane managed to tear his gaze away, facing the sink instead. Mama Madej didn’t raise no pervert and he was going to uphold that. He kept an ear out for the telltale clink of the shower curtains, signalling it was alright to turn around. 

Ryan’s silhouette could be made out just from behind the curtains - head bowed, water cascading down his shoulders. The man seemed to be lost in thought, which was a common occurrence nowadays. 

“Long day, huh?” Shane whispered. 

There was no response. Not that he expected one. 

“So...any ideas for True Crime? You and Brock should make an ep on that Jack Ripper guy. Bet the fans will go crazy.” He paused, “man, I miss doing those.”

_I miss you._

Ryan stepped out of the shower, not even bothering to towel himself. Shrugging on a fresh set of clothes, he headed to the living room, followed by a lingering air of lonely regret. Regret that Shane knew, was all his own fault. 

_I miss you so fucking much._

Shane left the bathroom with Ryan, only to be greeted by the sight of Brent standing at the living room table, his back turned. Somehow, he had entered the house without either of them noticing. To his shock, Shane realised that the silver chest on the table was open. 

“What the heck, dude?” snapped Ryan. He then saw the opened chest and froze. “Brent?” he asked, tone uneasy. “Did you do that?”

Brent made a low guttural noise and shuffled his feet. His movements were sharp and jerky, like a discombobulated puppet on taut strings. Grunting, he slowly lifted his head to face them, causing both Shane and Ryan to choke back horrified gasps. 

Ichorous black veins snaked across the man’s features. His eyes were a molten shade of sulfur, pupils slitted horizontally. Thick waves of inky miasma rolled off his form. The most ghastly change however, was his skin, or what was left of it. Swathes of dermis were peeling off to reveal red, fleshy tissue. 

It was truly a nightmarish sight to behold. Whatever the entity in the chest was, now wore their colleague's body as an ill-fitting suit. Raising a single clawed finger, it pointed at Shane and hissed. 

_“Bă͍̺̘̞͈̈́̄̀͑̕̚͘͠ͅn̥̳̩̼̤̝̪͊̎̈̒͌͒̉s̸̛̻̫̦͈̦̯̅́̇̏h̞̜͔̼̝̭͈̹͎̊̓͐̎͒̌̓ͅe̶̮̺̥̤̥̲̽̈́͋̈͗̀̉e.”_

The entity spoke in a twisted amalgamation of voices, causing chills to run down Shane’s non-existent spine. Every instinct screeched at him to flee, but he couldn’t move. Even the constant burning energy in his throat was gone, extinguished by icy dread. 

“Brent!” pleaded Ryan, as the entity continued to advance on them. “Snap out of it! _Please!_ ”

At the call of his name, Brent hesitated for a second - but only a second. Letting loose a deep, inhuman growl, he lunged towards Ryan.

* * *

“Welcome to another edition of Buzzfeed Unsolved: Postmortem, a show where we answer your most pressing questions on the latest episode, which was Aokigahara Forest. All your questions came to us via our Facebook page and um, let’s start with the first question, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> First, a huge thank you guys all for the support. I really appreciate it. 
> 
> Second, allow me to explain the lore used in this AU. When an individual dies, the kind of ghost they become is based on their ethnicity. For example, my ancestors hailed from Hainan, China, meaning if I were to die in this AU, I would become a spirit from Hainanese folklore. Just my spin on the different types of ghosts featured in the story. 
> 
> Lastly, I dare ya'll to google what a Nuckelavee looks like. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://delayedresponse.tumblr.com)


End file.
